Growing Up
by Saffron465
Summary: Ron is forced into reality with the transition from Hogwarts life to living by himself. After battling with his dingy flat, he is doubting himself and his abilities. Meanwhile, he is completely ignoring the fact he has a date with Hermione.


Ron ventured into his new flat. He hadn't wanted to purchase a room in the first place, and, to be honest, he wasn't very happy with the one that Hermione had chosen for him. Frankly, he was perfectly fine with staying in the Burrow where his mother could make him each and every meal.

The prison cell, er, flat, in question had drab grey wallpaper and a brown carpet, and something was dripping from the ceiling. He shuddered. _When's the last time this bloody thing's been cleaned? _

"So this is it, then?" he asked the man showing him in, his voice echoing slightly. The landlord was a slightly pudgy man who seemed like he couldn't care less about the state of the property in front of them.

"Take it or leave it, kid. I've got other people interested." The landlord gave him a dark look, and Ron raised his hands in surrender.

"Alright, alright. Thank you. Sir."

Grumbling, the man left Ron with the keys, muttering to himself as he shut the door behind him. Ron was glad for the silence. He'd hated that man since the beginning. He paced the squeaky floor, unsure of what to do next. He always hated when things changed.

* * *

The chair creaked beneath Ron as he sat down with his tea, and he was afraid it might break. The silence had been replaced with a loud metallic clanging after Ron had moved a tin bucket under the ceiling where it had been dripping. He shifted uncomfortably and pulled out a folder. It was for his new job as an Auror, which he had practically been handed. He attempted to read it, but all the words began blurring together, and he realized he'd been rereading the same sentence over and over again when suddenly, a loud beeping sounded. Quickly, Ron jumped up from his chair, scanning the room for what was wrong. That was when he noticed the waffles he had been making were burnt. He pulled his wand out from his pocket and shook it.

"This bloody broken wand can't even cook waffles!" he shouted as he sprinted into the kitchen. A burnt clump of what had been sweet-smelling dough was cooking in the waffle maker, and Ron had to scrape at the machine to get it out. Once everything was clean, he rested his elbows on the counter, putting his head in his hands.

"What am I doing?" he said aloud, surveying the state of his dismal kitchen. _I can't believe I can't even manage to make waffles. How am I supposed to be an Auror, and defend the ministry? Why did I ever take this job?_ The truth was, he doubted himself. He doubted that he could find a job himself, to provide money for him to live off of. And best of all, Harry was doing it too. He could work side by side with one of his best friends. But now, he realized, he couldn't do that. _I'm not good enough at magic to do that, to prevent terrible things from happening._ He sighed, walking back to his chair, his stomach growling.

* * *

It had been about a week since Ron had settled into his new flat, and he was starting to understand things. His job made more sense, the leak had stopped, and he managed to cook a decent breakfast. _Finally, things are going right for once. Mum would be so proud if she saw me now,_ he thought to himself. He watched the people crossing the street below through the window. They moved so quickly, brushing past one another in a hurry to get to their destination. He remembered how in Hogwarts, he had never had to provide for himself. Never had to make dinner, go to work, or do laundry. And he took it all for granted. He never wondered about things like that, or cared, even. _Hermione did,_ he thought wearily. She was always thanking the house-elves and trying to save them from their fates of being slaves forever. He should have, too. Hermione. _Hermione!_

"Oh no. What day is it? Please don't say the 12th..." He frantically searched the table for the newspaper and spotted the date, printed at the very top of the page. It was June 12th. "I have a date tonight! I completely forgot, and I'm not ready at all!" he ran to his bedroom, searching his closet for something decent to wear. He flicked through the hangers with clothes with growing dread as he neared the end. Nothing. "Great," he said, and sprinted back to the living room. As he passed the table, he grabbed his keys and strode out the door, locking it behind him.

* * *

"Hello, sir, how may I help you?" the salesman asked Ron as soon as he walked through the door.

"Er, hi...I was hoping to buy a suit here?" he answered nervously.

"Of course. You've come to the perfect place. If you need help finding one, please just ask that man over there. Have a lovely day," the man replied, a large smile spread across his face. Ron wondered how many times he had to say that a day. He wandered through the store, unsure of where he was going. He felt completely lost. He nearly bumped into the salesman before righting himself and smiling slightly.

"Um, hello. I was told you could help me find a suit?"

"Oh, yes. Definitely. What sort of look are you going for?"

"Whatever is cheapest." Ron realized he had said that aloud and immediately turned red.

"Alright, you're going for the cheap look? What is your occasion?"

"I'm going out with my girlfriend for dinner. Is there anything...for that?" _why am I so terrible at this?_

"Yes, of course. Right this way." the man led him over to a rack full of suits, many different shades of blue. Ron picked one at random, so nervous that his hands were almost shaking. "That's a lovely one you've got there," he added and showed him the fitting rooms. "You can try it on there." As soon as Ron put the suit on, he stared in the mirror at himself. _Now I'm ready,_ he thought. _I'm ready for my job, for Hermione, and for anything life throws at me. _The suit was a bit big on him, but it would do. He quickly paid for it and hurried home, eager now to get home and prepare.

* * *

Hermione knocked on the door tentatively, her light pink dress flowing about her legs. She had nearly stepped on it twice as she climbed the stairs, but luckily she managed to avoid tearing the soft fabric. Ron swung open the door.

"Wow, Ron, you actually look decent for once!" she exclaimed, smiling brightly at the sight of him. "Did you go and buy a suit just for this?"

"Yes. You look… er… wonderful," he managed to say before turning red. She pulled on his arm.

"Well, let's not dawdle. We don't want to be late. Let's go!" he smiled, relaxing the slightest bit, and locked the door behind him. That was when she noticed the price tag attached to the back of his collar. She bit her lip, stifling a laugh, and carefully plucked it off. Same old Ron. They continued down the stairs, Hermione smiling and Ron oblivious to the fact that Hermione had just saved him from a large load of embarrassment.

Beater 2

Chudley Cannons

Round 8

Word count: 1,239


End file.
